


Men Well Met

by irisbleufic



Category: Arthurian Mythology, Arthurian Mythology & Related Fandoms, Sir Gawain and the Green Knight
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-12-25
Updated: 2005-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-01 04:43:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1040472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/irisbleufic/pseuds/irisbleufic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Millefiori in the 2005 Yuletide Challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Men Well Met

 

 

**I. By the Mass**

  
  
The altarpiece gleamed in the candlelight, and Gawain followed its glow to the front of the chapel. If a star had ever guided three kings of the east to the place of Christ's birth, well could he now believe it. The crucifix was not a portrait of agonized death, but a burst of gold like the halo of the sun —or, indeed, like the Orient's Star in splendor.  
  
A tug at his sleeve returned him to earth again, tumbling him out of his thoughts.  
  
"Like you this chapel?" asked the lord, too loudly, slapping the pew with a smile.  
  
"Yes," said Gawain, glancing once more at the altar. "Truly, I stand in amazement."  
  
"Come, then, you and your amazement both," replied the lord, "and sit."  
  
Across the far aisle, Gawain caught sight of a screened chamber. Through the delicate latticework, from behind the shadows, peered a pair of dark eyes dimmed by disappointment. The lady was not alone, for the chamber rattled with whispers.  
  
"Your women-folk are merry," Gawain remarked, trying on a smile of his own.  
  
"'Tis the season for such maiden mirth," replied the lord, laughing, "is it not?"  
  
"Maiden?" blurted Gawain.  
  
"By the Mass," said the lord, "let it trouble you not. See here, you shall meet my priest."  
  
"Indeed, I would know—" Gawain paused, cold at the thought "—your name, sir. I've forgot."  
  
"Bertilak, good Gawain, at your service," said the lord, softly, as the priest began to sing. "And you would do well to wish of me what you will."  
  
Gawain nodded, turning his head, and stared half-blind at the star.  


 

**II. By St. John**

  
  
Somewhere beneath the wine's sweet taste, there was a hint of sorcery. Still, Gawain was glad, for if Bertilak knew the wild ways that led to the Green Chapel, then surely all would be well. The glass now offered him was no less full than its fore, and the cushions of the couch behind them felt all the more soft and fine.  
  
"Yes, by Gog," said Bertilak, cheerfully, "you are right welcome here, lad.And should you but show doubt —"  
  
"My lord, I'll show none," protested Gawain, proving his tongue the better for drink.  
  
"Aye, good sir," slurred Bertilak, slinging one arm across his shoulders. "And a true."  
  
Gawain felt the flush of flames swell brighter, then, full searing with light.  
  
"Nay, sir, I say again."  
  
"Then stay," said Bertilak, suddenly still, "and see to this our sport."  
  
"Lord, I swear by St. John that I shall."  
  
"An oath well sworn," laughed Bertilak, leaning, "and sealed."  
  
The lord's lips were soft, and the touch full brief. Gawain nodded, brusquely, as he'd done in the chapel, and the flames seemed to flood and enshrine the space of his chamber. At the doors stood pages with torches in hand, hovering one on each side.  
  
"I will leave you," Bertilak reassured him, rising, "until late morn."  
  
"I will see you," murmured Gawain, in wonder, and finished the wine alone.  


 

**III. By the Chimney-Side**

  
  
Gawain's head was swimming again, but it was not the sweet wine. The lord's hall gleamed with flames again, and courtiers brightly arrayed. His cheeks had begun to burn well nigh before he'd given over his gift, and the wine, he supposed, would only help.  
  
The court had gotten a goodly jest of the game, and Bertilak was gleeful.  
  
"By this chimney-side," began Bertilak, tilting up his goblet, "I propose this chance be played again upon the morrow, should you have it!"  
  
Gawain sank lower in the lush cushions, lacing his fingers tight about his cup.  
  
"I will ask of you, my lord," he said, blushing at the court's laughter, "what I wish."  
  
"Aye, and that —?"  
  
"Would be what you will," whispered Gawain, weakly, and drained his wine.  


 

**IV. By St. Giles**

  
  
This time, Gawain _knows_ it's not the wine flowing fast to his head. Two kisses the lady had given, so two kisses he's given to her lord. There is a strange distance betwixt them, as if neither bedchamber, nor bawdry has ever come them between.  
  
The kisses he was given in return go faster to his head than any fire.  
  
He was alone with Bertilak in his chamber now, and the court shut soundly outside. Their clamor rang through the castle, carrying through the keenly carved stones. If the lady herself was in their midst, he could not distinguish her voice from the din.  
  
Bertilak shifts against the throws of silk, his shoulder pressed gently to Gawain.  
  
"You are silent this eventide, good Gawain. How fares your prize of a feast?"  
  
"Well, well, I assure you," said Gawain, sleepy and filled to the brim.  
  
"By St. Giles, I'll bring you another," Bertilak vowed. "Ere it be midday, a boar or better!"  
  
"Later than midday," Gawain yawned, "or you shall yet find me sleeping."  
  
"Or shall the lady in my castle kept."  
  
The words were blurred, distant, and good Sir Gawain slept.  


 

**V. By the Rood**

  
  
"Kindness," slurred Gawain, trying again for the word, catching the sleeves of his lord. "And so I thank you for —for your—"  
  
"Kindness," Bertilak said, and caught him by the shoulders, one broad hand at the back of his head. "By the rood, but you have well deserved it!"  
  
"Nay, nay," Gawain said, and found that he could stand. "'Twas not my honor done."  
  
"Hush," replied the lord, with the tilting of the drapes and floor, and sighed.  
  
"Truly, was the hunt so foul?"  
  
"'Tis worth naught, save for this, to chase Reynard a mile."  
  
And frozen there, despite the lamps so warm, they kissed a fourth, aye, then a fifth, and did not ask the time. Past one, they listened as the lady toed the chamber, and drew the curtains once she'd cleared the wine.  


 

**VI. By the Morn**

  
  
The lord's throws of silk and blankets of sable were the warmest of the bedding in the castle. Half asleep, Gawain guessed that his chamber servants perhaps were much amazed at his absence, but the resting-place he'd found was dusk till dawn of peace. The light of dawn through the curtains was pale and pearlescent, each silver glint a star.  
  
In his sleep, Bertilak stirred, his chest full warm and flush against Gawain's cheek.  
  
"I must away from this place," Gawain whispered, "though I wish..."  
  
"You might stay," sighed the lord, one hand at Gawain's side, "as it is mine."  
  
"Nay, I might not. Our bargain did not state —"  
  
"Alas, what you speak's sooth. I vowed to show your way."  


 

*****

**Gawain's Leave-Taking**

  
  
_By the morn and by the stars, and by the sun and rain_ , he said,  
  
_I will see you by the by, and soon I'll come again_.


End file.
